


all those open doors

by anthean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Dissociation, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Imperial Academy Era, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, seriously heed the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 09:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean
Summary: Thrawn swayed another half step forward, then flattened himself against the opposite wall again. “No,” he said. “No. Eli, don’t.” His voice cracked. “I would never ask that of you. Never.”--Thrawn doesn't ask. Eli offers. Neither of them are sure if they enjoyed it.





	all those open doors

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to tristesses for pointing out that this would be so much more painful if I acknowledged that humans have *emotions, ew*
> 
> I didn't think this warranted a rape/noncon tag, but it's definitely dubcon. Proceed with caution, and see end notes if you need more details.

The Academy combat dojo was a large, airy, room, lined with thick mats and smelling faintly of healthy sweat. It was mostly empty now in the off-peak hours, most of the students busy with coursework or in the mess hall, but a few were taking advantage of the quiet to work out.

Including Eli, grunting as Thrawn threw him to the mat for the third time in a row.

“Pax,” Eli said, pushing himself up to his elbows and holding up a hand. Thrawn stepped back, acknowledging the end of the bout, and Eli scrambled to his feet. He drew his hand across his forehead, sending drops of sweat sparkling to the ground, and lifted his shirt away from his body to cool himself. Thrawn followed the motion, his eyes narrowing slightly, and Eli felt his face grow even hotter. It wasn’t like Thrawn looked much better: the exercise had taken it out of him, too. His sleek black hair was disheveled, long strands heavy with sweat and falling into his eyes, and the muscles of his legs and stomach quivered slightly.

They moved towards the changing room, mutually agreeing without exchanging words that practice was over for the day.

“Those were some nice moves,” Eli said, to break the silence.

“I am...out of practice,” Thrawn said after a moment. His voice was stiff, controlled, and Eli wondered if he’d inadvertently touched a nerve. Of course Thrawn would be out of practice, marooned on his exile planet for gods knew how long. Kind of an odd thing to get twitchy about, though. And he’d been the one to suggest taking advantage of the dojo’s open hours, after Orbar and Turuy’s attack.

“Well, you wiped the floor with me,” Eli said.

Thrawn didn’t respond, and that seemed to close that avenue of conversation. He’d been a little quieter in the past day or so. Fewer translation requests, fewer apparently random questions about Imperial protocol and culture, more hours spent stretched on his bunk under his sun lamp, eyes half-closed to shining slivers of red.

Eli grabbed his change of clothes out of the locker when they got to the changing room, stripping down quickly and heading to a shower stall. Thrawn didn’t bother to undress; instead, he took his clean clothes from the locker and carried them into the adjacent stall wearing his workout outfit. It was a little odd, Eli thought as he turned on the water and stepped in, but not the strangest thing Thrawn had ever done. Maybe he was self-conscious? But the changing room was uncharacteristically empty, and Thrawn had never seemed bodily shy before.

More the opposite, in fact: he spent most of his free time stretched out shirtless on his bunk and studying on his datapad, and regularly changed clothes in their room without the least attempt to hide his body. Eli mostly stared resolutely at the wall when that happened.

Thrawn would be naked now, Eli thought, ducking his head under the water and letting it seep through his hair. Thrawn would have peeled off his tank top, stretching his arms above his head and shaking the last of the sweat from his hair, and stepped out of his loose pants, the trim muscles of his legs flexing. Eli could almost hear the whisper of clothing against skin, the pad of Thrawn’s feet on the floor. He shivered and turned the water up a little hotter.

The water in the next shower hissed on. Thrawn would be stepping into the stream, the water first cascading down the front of his body, down his chest and hips. As he became fully immersed, the water would soak the short hair at the back of his neck, would leave droplets on his shoulder blades and the dip of his spine, would drip down his ass before falling to the floor.

Eli’s hand drifted downwards. His body was already keyed up from their workout, already halfway aroused from activity and adrenaline. It wouldn’t take much, just a couple firm strokes and the thought of Thrawn on the other side of the partition, inches away.

But he stopped himself. It was one thing to catch glimpses of Thrawn’s body out of the corner of his eye, to wonder at the back of his mind what those long legs might feel like wrapped around his hips. Getting himself off in the shower to those thoughts felt like crossing a line, even if Thrawn would never find out.

His feelings about Thrawn were all mixed up: frustration and anger at Thrawn’s appropriation of Eli’s career warring against fascination, attraction, even burgeoning camaraderie. Sometimes Eli felt like his head was going to split open, trying to contain all those conflicting emotions about one person.

He shook his head and flicked the water out of his eyes. A few minutes later Eli was clean and dry, having speeded through the rest of his shower and dried himself with a few quick passes of his towel. The water in the next stall still ran as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed the clothes he’d left on a bench. He had pulled on his uniform trousers and was putting on his undershirt when a low sound from the shower stall behind him caught his attention.

He turned around and froze.

Thrawn hadn’t closed the door to his shower cubicle. Nor had he removed his clothes. He stood hunched under the spray of water, his forehead pressed to the wall and his clothes plastered to his body. His shoulders heaved with labored breaths and his arms hung loose at his sides, hands clenching spasmodically.

Something was terribly wrong.

Eli rushed into the stall, hissing as the water struck him--it was frigid, turned down as cold as it would go. He lunged for the shower controls, and the movement brought him within Thrawn’s reach.

Thrawn had Eli pinned against the wall faster than Eli could react, gripping Eli’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. Eli caught one glimpse of Thrawn’s eyes, slitted in what looked like pain, before Thrawn buried his face against Eli’s neck and inhaled deeply.

It lasted only a moment: Eli frozen against the wall, mind blank with shock, Thrawn with his mouth against Eli’s throat, before Thrawn threw himself back against the opposite wall, breathing heavily and eyes wide with horror.

They stared at each other, the icy shower water flowing down between them.

Eli recovered first. “Thrawn?” he asked. “Thrawn, what’s wrong?” His voice felt shaky, like he was remembering how to talk, and his shoulders ached where Thrawn had grabbed them.

The tiny shower stall didn’t feel safe. But he stayed.

Thrawn passed a hand over his eyes. The movement looked abnormally uncertain, almost unnatural given Thrawn’s usual unshakeable poise.

“I am sorry, Eli,” Thrawn said. His voice was low and rough, and Eli recalled the sound that he had heard--the moan, he realized now. “Truly. I am...not myself right now.”

That was a hell of an understatement, Eli thought. “Are you sick?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think of that would explain Thrawn’s behavior. “You need to go to Medical, you really don’t look good.”

“As we have previously discussed, Medical will not know how to treat a Chiss,” Thrawn said, his voice carefully controlled. “And I do not wish their assistance, in this case.”

“Then tell _me_ ,” Eli said. “Or, I don’t know, don’t tell me, just...something, an explanation.”

The cold water on the shower floor was beginning to creep up his uniform trousers and he crossed his arms over his chest, shivering a little. Thrawn’s eyes dropped and his mouth opened, and he took half a step forward.

Like he was drawn to Eli. Like he enjoyed looking at Eli, like he wanted him.

Eli felt his own mouth open and his eyes drop, down Thrawn’s torso, down to---gods, down to where an erection tented his soaking pants.

His face burned with heat and he dragged his eyes away. What in hells was going on?

“I’m sorry,” Thrawn repeated. He turned his face aside, as though he couldn’t bear to keep looking at Eli. “It is...a quirk of Chiss biology. An effect of our hormonal cycles. I had hoped that exercise would alleviate it, but it seems that...it did not. I assure you that I am in control of myself now.”

Eli abruptly became aware that the shower door was still open, and it was damn near a miracle that the changing room had stayed empty this long. He reached out, careful to telegraph his movements for Thrawn, and pulled the door closed, shutting them in the cubicle together. His toes were beginning to go numb, so he turned the water off.

Without the shower running, the changing room was very quiet. Eli could hear Thrawn’s indrawn breaths, the little shifts of his feet on the floor. The stall was small; they were really only inches apart.

“So you’re not sick? You’re not in danger?” Eli asked.

“No,” Thrawn said. “I am...very uncomfortable. But it will pass.” His hands twitched at his sides, and he closed his eyes.

“Do you want some help?” Eli blurted out, and then recoiled, his face flaming. What was he thinking? It was bad enough that half the student body already thought they were fucking, bad enough that his attraction to Thrawn was becoming more explicit every day. He didn’t have to confirm the rumors or torture himself by actually sleeping with Thrawn.

Especially if Thrawn couldn’t control himself. Could he?

Thrawn looked, if possible, even more shocked than Eli. He swayed another half step forward, then flattened himself against the opposite wall again. “No,” he said. “No. Eli, don’t.” His voice cracked. “I would never ask that of you. Never.”

There had to be something wrong with Eli, that the sight of Thrawn barely clinging to the shreds of his composure was setting all his nerves alight. “You didn’t ask,” Eli said, taking a step closer. So much for crossing lines.

Thrawn’s breath turned fast and shallow and he swallowed convulsively, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Eli…” he said, halfway between a warning and a whine.

“You didn’t ask,” Eli repeated. “I offered.”

He took one more step forward, closing the distance between them, and set his hand on Thrawn’s erection.

Thrawn _keened_.

His hips drove forward once, twice, three times, and then warmth bloomed under Eli’s hand. Thrawn groaned, and his head lolled against the wall.

“Um,” Eli said. He withdrew his hand and looked down.

Thrawn’s erection was unabated. If anything, it was bigger.

Eli sucked in a breath as his heart started to pound. His head swam, dizzy as the blood rushed downward, and he felt pinioned between the urge to push forward and the urge to run.

He decided. “Let’s take this back to the room,” he said.

Thrawn hesitated for a long moment, then nodded. If Eli hadn’t known better, he would have called the look in Thrawn’s eyes _defeat_.

* * *

They made it back to their quarters...somehow. Eli closed the door behind them and then, telling himself he was not hesitating, keyed it locked.

He turned to look at Thrawn.

Thrawn stood in the center of the room, very still. It was a close approximation of his usual unshakeable calm, except that his hands trembled minutely.

“Eli,” Thrawn began, and abruptly Eli knew what he was going to say.

He forestalled it. “Get on the chair,” he ordered.

And Thrawn...obeyed. He pulled a chair away from the desk and sat, his legs splayed and his hands gripping his thighs, and gazed steadily up at Eli, eyes burning.

It was easier if Eli looked down and away, easier to pretend he wasn’t doing what he was doing. He felt himself blush, felt blood rush to his face and his cock, and his hands lifted to twine together nervously. He forced them back down.

“Eli,” Thrawn said again, and this time Eli didn’t interrupt. “Truly, your assistance is not necessary.” His voice sounded a little calmer, a little less desperate, and Eli couldn’t decide if he liked the change.

He strode over and stood between Thrawn’s legs. Thrawn tilted his head back and stared up at him, his face blank, and Eli forced himself to meet Thrawn’s eyes.

“But do you want it?” Eli asked, and Thrawn’s nostrils flared minutely as he inhaled.

“As I stated previously,” Thrawn said, his voice controlled, and yeah, Eli didn’t like that at all. “My current state is an effect of the Chiss hormonal cycle. It is not dangerous, merely inconvenient to myself and, unfortunately, to others. Left alone, it will resolve itself within…”

His voice trailed off as Eli kneeled in front of him.

“Yeah, okay,” Eli said. “But do you want it?”

Thrawn was fumbling at the clasps of his trousers almost before Eli finished speaking, yanking them open and scrambling to shove them off. He slid down in the chair, bringing himself closer to Eli’s mouth, and spread his legs as far as he could.

Eli wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, to be honest: something broadly similar to his own genitals, perhaps, but he’d never let himself think about it too closely.

He looked his fill now; it was easier than looking at Thrawn’s face. Thrawn’s cock was roughly the same length as Eli might expect for a human, but the base seemed thicker and it tapered to a far finer point, and he appeared to lack external testicles. The cock itself was flushed a deep indigo, shading to almost violet at the tip, and under Eli’s gaze the muscles of Thrawn’s stomach fluttered and a few beads of clear liquid dripped from two slits on either side of the base, glittering against the black hair that grew there.

He wanted to spend a little longer looking, wanted to start exploring slowly, teasing until--

Until what? This wasn’t about him, what he wanted or what he enjoyed. This was about Thrawn.

He leaned forward and took Thrawn’s cock in his mouth.

Eli wasn’t really sure what he was doing, but his lips moved and his tongue stroked and his body felt buzzy, on edge, like something big was crawling around just under his skin, and he kept going until Thrawn jerked a little under him and hot liquid flooded Eli’s mouth. He closed his eyes and swallowed and listened to the breath hiss through his nose. Thrawn’s cock was erect still but quiescent in his mouth, and Eli felt oddly unable to move.

“Eli, that’s-” Thrawn began, and Eli could move again.

He slid his mouth back down the shaft and Thrawn groaned like he’d been punched, his body bowing forward to bend over Eli and his hands coming up to grab at Eli’s head. It was a shock to be touched: Thrawn’s fingers sent shivers along Eli’s scalp and down his neck, and he flinched away instinctively before getting himself together.

It was like Thrawn’s touch had woken him up, knocked him out of his own head. He pulled back, laving the tip of Thrawn’s cock between tongue and lips, and ran his hands up Thrawn’s thighs, relishing how they quivered. More fluid oozed from the slits on Thrawn’s cock; Eli rubbed his fingers through it. It was more viscous than he expected, almost sticky, but it became more slippery as he worked it through his fingers.

Thrawn held him for a moment longer, his fingers pressing hard into Eli’s skull, before straightening up and resting his hands on the chair arms. His legs flexed, squeezing together gently--almost, Eli fancied, like Thrawn wanted to wrap them around Eli’s shoulders, and wasn’t that a hot, shivery, thought--and then relaxed, falling open as far as they could, allowing Eli more space to work.

He let Thrawn’s cock slide deeper into his mouth, until his nose nearly touched Thrawn’s stomach and he could lick up the liquid that was dripping out in greater quantities now. It had no real taste aside from a vague bitterness, and he spread it along the shaft with his tongue until everything was wet and hot.

A raised line was developing on the underside of the shaft--a blood vessel? A tendon? Eli wasn’t sure, but when his fingers brushed against it Thrawn choked back a quiet gasp, so it probably deserved some attention. He stroked along it with the pad of his thumb and was rewarded with a soft moan from Thrawn.

Gentle fingers returned to his hair--Eli wasn’t startled this time--and pushed his head back down, then lifted away. Eli took the hint: the base of Thrawn’s cock seemed to be more sensitive and he drew as much into his mouth as he could, working his lips and tongue in rhythm. He pressed his thumb into the ridge again, massaging the part his mouth couldn’t reach.

Thrawn wasn’t quite losing control, but his legs were flexing slightly in time with Eli’s mouth and his exhales shaded towards stifled groans, like he wanted to cry out and couldn’t make himself. Eli felt the urge to pull away, to draw things out, keep Thrawn balanced on the the edge of pleasure until he was writhing and moaning for real, until he was begging Eli with broken words for release.

He didn’t think Thrawn would want that, though. It would be too personal, too intimate, for the near-strangers they truly were. Eli didn’t know if he could handle it himself, to be honest. So he doubled down, sucking and pressing and stroking, driving Thrawn on until Thrawn tensed and the rush of liquid filled Eli’s mouth again.

He sat back. Thrawn grabbed at his still-erect cock with a strangled cry and pulled at it desperately, one hand massaging the base and the other stroking along the ridge. He sighed with pleasure at the first few strokes, head falling back to rest on the chair, but as his hands worked more and more frantically and he showed no signs of being any closer to orgasm his sighs turned to grunts of frustration.

Eli reached out, but Thrawn caught his hand and pulled him up and over the chair. He stumbled and caught himself with a hand on the desk behind Thrawn’s head and his knee on the chair between Thrawn’s spread legs. That seemed to be what Thrawn wanted: he slid further down in the chair and ground his cock against Eli’s thigh, freeing his hands to fumble at the waist of Eli’s pants.

“Hey, wait, you don’t--” Eli began, but his words trailed off as Thrawn got Eli’s pants open and took out his cock. Thrawn’s eyes were still closed; he seemed to be given over to sensation alone, caressing Eli’s cock with movements that were curious, exploratory, at odds with the weak desperation with which he rutted against Eli’s leg.

Their movements were faster now, the chair banging against the desk as Eli gave up holding back and thrust into Thrawn’s hand. Thrawn’s hips were bucking wildly against Eli’s leg, threatening to push him off the chair altogether; he braced his other foot against the floor and pushed back with all his might. Thrawn moaned, full-throated at last, and that sent Eli over the edge, his hips snapping forward and his eyes screwing shut. He was vaguely aware of Thrawn coming as well, tensing and shaking below him, but even that went away as he rode his orgasm to the end.

When he opened his eyes, he found one hand braced against the desk and the other curled around the back of Thrawn’s neck, his fingers woven through Thrawn’s hair. He stroked it, dreamy, his fingers slipping through the fine strands, soft and wet with sweat.

A sound broke through the haze, and he snatched his hand away and looked down. Sprawled on the chair below him, Thrawn looked utterly fucked-out, his eyes closed in exhaustion and his jaw slack, his stomach a mess of come. But as Eli watched, his throat tightened and he groaned faintly, and his hips began twitching against Eli’s leg again.

Eli couldn’t believe it: Thrawn was still hard.

He reached down, but his fingers had no sooner brushed Thrawn’s cock then Thrawn’s eyes snapped open and he pushed Eli’s hand away.

“No,” Thrawn said. “Stop.” His voice was hoarse, and he stilled his hips as though it took a massive effort.

It was so unexpected that Eli couldn’t respond for a moment. “What?” he finally stuttered, and his hand moved down again almost without him realizing it.

“No,” Thrawn repeated. He pushed Eli’s hand away more firmly this time, then struggled to sit up.

Eli sprung backwards, putting about a meter of space between him and the chair. He fumbled his pants closed, his cheeks flaming and hands unsteady. Thrawn was doing much the same, his face turned away. He was clearly still aroused, and just as clearly unwilling to continue the interaction.

“I’m sorry?” Eli offered. He wasn’t really sure what he was apologizing for. Thrawn had seemed to enjoy what they did, but clearly something had gone wrong, or Eli had overstepped somehow.

Or--

He remembered Thrawn in the shower, body shaking and voice taut. _I would never ask that of you._

And _I assure you that I am in control of myself now._

Eli had believed his assurances. But what if--

What if--

He opened his mouth to ask, but then stopped, his face heating up again. What was he supposed to say?

“Apologies are unnecessary,” Thrawn said, his voice stiff. He turned his back to Eli, facing the bunk, but not before Eli caught a glimpse of a strange expression on his face: it looked like shame. “I would appreciate solitude now.”

Eli would appreciate a little solitude himself.

“Yeah, okay,” Eli said, and ducked into the ‘fresher. The shower stall seemed to loom large, and he avoided looking at it, instead closing his eyes and sitting down on the toilet.

His hands lifted of their own accord and clenched together, and abruptly he found himself shaking. Something roiled in his gut and he leaned forward to rest his forehead on his knees. A wave of cold swept over him.

Eli rode it out, the shakes turning into shivers and then to exhausted stillness. When he sat up again he found cold sweat had soaked the back of his shirt. He felt wrung out, used--or maybe he had done the using. He didn’t know.

 _I am very uncomfortable_ , he remembered Thrawn saying. They had that in common now.

But he also remembered Thrawn’s hair under his fingers, and the way Thrawn had seemed to relax as Eli held him, in the brief moment before everything had gone wrong. That hadn’t been so bad.

He looked at the door back to the room and his stomach tightened again. He’d stay in here for a while, then. And when he came out--well.

In six weeks he’d never have to see Thrawn again.

**Author's Note:**

> additional warnings: the sex in this is dubcon brought about by Thrawn entering a Chiss heat cycle; Eli offers to help him out with it despite not quite knowing what he's getting into. At one point Eli dissociates briefly before becoming more enthusiastic about the sex. Thrawn ends the encounter abruptly, and Eli realizes that he's unsure if Thrawn was truly capable of consent.
> 
> Title from [Could Have Guessed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uP6BzaUXri8) by Girlyman, not because it has anything to do with the fic but because I was listening when I needed a title. It's super sad; I recommend it.
> 
> I might write a sequel if enough people yell at me...


End file.
